Breaking Hearts (B-boy #3)

by S. Briones Lim

  “Dance competition?” Jinny’s yanked at the ends of her hair in thought. “Anything we know? He looked kind of familiar.”

  “When have we ever kept up with dancing competitions?” I snorted.

  She shrugged. “We did watch that show on MTV once.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I scratched my forehead, trying to remember where that guy said he was from, but once again drew a blank. Unlike Jinny, I didn’t think he looked familiar. I’m pretty sure I would have remembered his thick black hair, soulful dark eyes, and chiseled jawline that actually looked a bit lopsided, now that I thought about it. No, he was definitely someone brand new and special.

  “Thinking about him?” she teased.

  I automatically blushed, feeling my cheeks warm. “No,” I lied.

  “Sure.” Jinny sighed and lowered herself onto the couch, curling up into the fetal position. “Either way, I’m happy you finally let go of your inhibitions. It was fun seeing you let loose for once.”

  “You calling me a wet blanket?” I asked, half-jokingly.

  “No,” she replied truthfully. “Just someone who needed to loosen her corset, which leads me to ask again, why him? What was it about the guy that made you finally let go?”

  “Honestly, it wasn’t him,” I replied, wincing.

  “Come again?”

  “I had a pretty shitty day. Damien chose Sarah to play the solo in the spring program.”

  Right on cue my friends’ faces fell in dismay. “I’m so sorry, Mal. I know you worked so hard on that.”

  I shrugged. “She was always his favorite. If anything, I half expected it.”

  “Still…”

  My shoulders bounced again. “Truthfully, it was the reason I went home with what’s-his-name. It just felt good being someone’s favorite for once. Shoot, every time we go out guys always flock to both of you and never me.”

  Both my friends were built like supermodels, though Claudia was rather petite at five-foot two. With Jinny’s wild red curls and big emerald eyes, and Claudia’s porcelain, Snow White-esque complexion, I felt like nothing but a frumpy mess next to both of them.

  “Are you kidding?” Claudia gaped. “All the guys go crazy for your soda bottle curves. You’re just too stuck up to notice.”

  “Hey!” I objected. “I’m not stuck up.”

  “Either way, I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Claudia paused and let out a soft laugh. “If it means you being as spontaneous as you were tonight, maybe you need more of these ‘shitty’ days in your life.”

  Chapter 2

  Asher

  “Let me try one more time.” I wiped away the bead of sweat that threatened to spill from the tip of my nose and eyed the blue foam mat with a vengeance, narrowing my eyes as if waging war on my enemy. If I were being honest, that mat was my enemy. Spill after spill, I met that mat straight with my face. I’d be lucky if I walked away from practice unbruised.

  “Just quit it.” Gerald rolled his eyes and made a show of yawning, opening his mouth wide and letting out a loud moan. “You’ve been at this for like fifteen minutes. You’re not going to land that gainer.”

  “But I always land it,” I protested, swiping my sneakers against the foam. Damn that mat.

  “Maybe you’re having an off day.” Noticing the look on my face, he quickly added, “Don’t even try to tell me you never have off days.”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. “But I really don’t have any off days. I’m always on point. I don’t know what’s going on with me today.”

  “Maybe it’s that girl you left with last night. What was her name, anyway?”

  “Mallory,” I told him, remembering the way the girl’s curves looked as she rode me the night before. Her hips had rolled in an almost hypnotic motion. She had to be a dancer too, there was no way she could be that fluid otherwise. I cleared my throat, discreetly adjusting myself as the image of her bouncing tits flooded my mind. I needed to focus on landing the gainer. Missing it again would throw my whole vibe off and I wasn’t about to go into battle without my head in the game.

  “Mallory,” Gerald repeated approvingly. “Smart what you did, by the way. Renting a hotel room at the last minute. Can’t be too sure about those stage five clingers stalking you, especially since you’re staying at my place.”

  I quickly averted my gaze. There was no way I’d tell him that she left me. Despite not having too many hookups in my past, I was never one to encourage a ‘breakfast after’ any time I did have one. Still I had to admit, it kinda sucked waking up to find the cold, empty space beside me.

  I cleared my throat. “Eh, we didn’t exchange numbers, anyway. It was a mutual agreement. One time, one fling.”

  “Whatever. Just try again and let’s be done with this. We have to leave for the battle soon.”

  And that was precisely why I had to land this move. Though I was never officially in Gerald’s crew, the guys always welcomed me with open arms any time I was back in town. As luck would have it, I was in between dancing gigs and would be back home for the next few months, hence automatically making me an unofficial member of Grom Attack.

  I’d be battling under their name that night.

  “Don’t you think that’s why I’m trying to land this? It’s going to throw my whole game off if I don’t.” My shirt was becoming increasingly soaked in sweat, but I still felt as if I were burning up. Angrily, I growled, “I don’t want to be the reason why you guys lose tonight.”

  A puff of air escaped his nostrils. “Dude, we haven’t won in like a year. Trust me, none of the guys are gonna care if you’re off tonight. It happens.”

  They may not care, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t.

  It wasn’t easy making a mark in the b-boying world. Usually an underground scene, hitting mainstream was almost next to impossible. The fact that I achieved that impossible has made me pretty anxious of losing it all again. Thus, I was pretty hard on myself—I was my own worst critic.

  “I need to hit this.” I nodded my head in self-affirmation and wound up, kicking my leg off the ground. As my body tilted in the air, I quickly eyed the ground to prepare my footing, but it was no use. I under rotated and once again fell smack onto the mat.

  Gerald tsked loudly, not even bothering to help me up. “Let’s just go. We’re gonna be late.”

  Groaning, I pushed myself up into a seated position and swiped at my nose, checking for blood. Relieved to find no crimson on my fingertips, I shook my head. “One more time.”

  ***

  Cigarette smoke infiltrated my nostrils as the crew and I walked toward the entrance of a downtown warehouse. I fought the urge to cringe, wondering how the hell these smokers were able to keep their cardio up enough to battle.

  “Who’s competing tonight?” I kept my voice low, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. As reaching the impossible went, I also attracted a handful of haters who preferred to keep b-boying under wraps and away from pop culture’s spotlight. In their eyes I was enemy number one, which was ridiculous considering the amount of hip hop dance movies available on the market. But I couldn’t care less what any of them thought. They were all just jealous assholes anyway.

  Mahone, the youngest member of the crew and practically my shadow, ran his hands through his bright green hair. Struggling to stay in pace with me, he answered in an equally low tone. “The usual. Knight Crawlerz, Resurrect, Annihilation—no one to be too worried about.”

  “Yeah, nothing to worry about…” I shifted uncomfortably, rolling my neck around to crack it. I still hadn’t landed a single gainer and hoped it wasn’t an omen of bullshit to come.

  The smell of spilled alcohol, body odor, and cheap cologne hit me in the face. The combination may be disgusting to some, but to me it was like home. Traveling around to shoot various television shows and commercials was all fine and dandy, but nothing beat the grittiness of a genuine b-boy battle.

  “You ready?” Gerald lifted his eyebrows questioningly. “Dude, you look
like you missed your final exam. Relax.”

  “I am relaxed,” I shot back, eyeing the cyphers that sprung up around the venue. I scanned the crowd, wondering who’d be my main competition, but nobody seemed to stick out.

  Just then the sound of faint laughter caught my attention. A crew I’d never seen before walked up to us with joker-like smiles on their faces. One of the guys who was decked out in one of those stupid V-neck shirts that nearly plunged down to his belly button, stepped up to me, flicking his tongue against his upper teeth.

  “Asher, right?” Despite towering over me by at least two inches, his voice sounded small and whimsical. Kind of like that Doberman in that Disney cartoon.

  I lifted my chin in response. “Yeah, that’s me. Who wants to know?”

  “It’s Scott, or Scottie Rippin’ to you.” He scanned the length of me, sizing me up. “How’s life treating you, Hollywood?”

  I fought the urge to cringe. Hollywood had become my unofficial pseudonym, overshadowing my true b-boy name, which was Hellhound. ‘Hollywood’ had somehow become a benchmark for haters to grill me. It became synonymous with the word, ‘sellout.’”

  “Can’t complain. Doing much better than a lot of other people.” I felt my crew gathering behind me, getting ready to step up if needed. Though the members of Grom Attack were more Gerald’s friends than mine, they’d accepted me when other crews wouldn’t, and I was beyond grateful for that.

  Scott nodded his head slowly, lowering the corners of his mouth. “Oh, it’s like that, huh?”

  I let out a grunt. “I’ll see you out on the floor, Scott.”

  “Fine. See you there. You better have your A game prepared.”

  I nodded my head once and turned to leave, listening to the snickers echoing behind me. It was as if Scott had known my sore spot and rubbed my face right into it.

  “Ignore them.” Gerald elbowed me in the ribs and glanced behind his shoulders. “They’re just trying to psyche you up.”

  “Oh, believe me, I know.” I scowled, raising my arms in the air for a good stretch. I refrained from telling anyone that my muscles were absolutely killing me and I’m not just talking about my failed flips. Apparently partying it up the night before had been a really bad idea. Then again, I couldn’t really hate myself for sleeping with Mallory. The blonde bombshell was worth every ounce of pain in my body.

  “You ready?” Mahone asked, eyeing me the way only a diehard fan would. I knew I was his role model or something, but shit, it gets weird!

  I nodded my head, shrugging off the creepiness. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

  Chapter 3

  The air felt heavy and suffocating. Its humid heat coated every inch of me, making it that much harder to breathe. I eyed my competitor, who stood across from me in the circle, listening to the brass trumpets blare through the gigantic speakers behind me.

  This was the part of the battle I loved, and even craved. Those few seconds prior to the start of our round where you could practically feel the excitement vibrating from the crowd…I felt like a warrior, ready to tear off my enemy’s head.

  At least I usually do.

  This time around, I felt as if I were teetering over the edge of a building. I was definitely far from ready.

  I was scared.

  I blinked quickly, trying to regain my focus. It was almost my turn to dance and I couldn’t afford any more distractions.

  B-boy what’s his name or other had just completed his run, signaling my turn to jump in the center. Like wading through a murky swamp, my feet felt heavy, as if they were coated in mud. Still I persevered—to no avail.

  My top rocks were sloppy and my hand hops misbalanced. Unless I hit something big, there was no way I’d advance to another round.

  Just do it. Just hit that fucking gainer. It’s your move. You’ve done it countless times before.

  I took a few steps, preparing for my launch. As I wound up, I could have sworn I heard Gerald yelling, “No! Don’t do it!”

  Figuring it was just my imagination; I squared my shoulders and jumped into the air before I could talk myself out of it. About mid-rotation I knew I had fucked up bad.

  BOOM.

  Scott’s crew’s laughter filled my ears as soon as I came to. I was sprawled on the ground, cheek splayed flat on the floor with my arm folded under me. Before I could wonder how long I’d been knocked out, I felt my body being peeled off the linoleum. Gerald pulled me back into the crowd as what seemed like the entire venue began to chant:

  “Hollywood! Hollywood! Hollywood!”

  Chapter 4

  Mallory

  Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

  The metronome bounced back and forth, reminding me of an old pocket watch used for hypnotism. I’d come across a few online coupons for weight loss hypnosis and even anti-smoking hypnosis before. As I watched the golden pointer sway, I couldn’t help but wish I could be hypnotized for self-esteem, or in the very least, bravery.

  A horrible note broke the song’s sweet melody. I cringed, waiting for Damien, my classical piano professor, to berate me for my ‘lack of focus,’ as he loved to say.

  “Mallory, what is going on with your head? You seem really unfocused,” his nasally voice called from the back of the room.

  See what I mean?

  Only in his early thirties, Damien Hall was the most sought after music instructor in our college. Students—specifically of the female persuasion—practically fell over themselves trying to get into his class. Seats were limited, but I happened to score one of the last remaining seats during registration week. If I could do it all again I would have chosen the stout Professor McClean instead. Though Damien—as he preferred we called him—was a looker, he was also about as difficult to work with as they come.

  He lowered his thick rimmed hipster looking glasses and scowled. “You’ve been really distracted this week. If you don’t focus, you won’t be prepared for the spring performance, which is half your final grade, might I add.”

  I kept my gaze on the swinging pendulum. If hypnosis was out of the question, maybe a good old fashioned kick in the butt would help me to speak up. “Damien, I don’t understand. You told me I’d have that solo. Why’d you give it to Sarah?”

  There, that wasn’t so bad. Of course it helped that Sarah was uncharacteristically missing from class.

  “Damien, sorry I’m late!” As if on cue, the sultry looking antagonist to my girl next door protagonist burst into the room breathlessly. FML. Why wouldn’t she have chosen that precise moment to waltz right into class?

  My cheeks flushed as I waited for him to answer. Though he tried his best to ignore Sarah, there was no missing his quick appraisal of her too-long legs, which looked even longer in those ridiculous Daisy Dukes she was sporting.

  Damien cleared his throat. “Sarah’s performance of that piece had something yours lacked.”

  Ripped jean shorts?

  “Emotion, Mallory. It had emotion.” He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his wrist. “When she’s up there, she just commands attention. You stiffen in a way that makes me think you don’t want the audience to even see you.”

  I could have argued all I wanted, but he was right. I loved piano for its music, but I absolutely hated performing in front of other people. Why did I have to worry about being gawked at when I wanted my music to speak for itself?

  “But there has to be some way I can change your mind,” I pleaded, ignoring the obvious sexual undertone of my statement. I didn’t mean it, I swear! I gulped, feeling cold sweat pool against my lower back. “Isn’t there something I can do better to make you reconsider?”

  “Are you saying you want me to give you Sarah’s part?” He raised his voice loud enough for her to hear. Flinching, I glanced over at the striking brunette only to find her staring daggers at me. Damien was seriously an asshole.

  I cleared my throat, keeping my face straight. “Look, I appreciate being part of the ensemble, but I really think I c
an handle a solo.”

  “No.”

  “No?” I squeaked.

  “My decision is final.”

  As if feeling the weight of my sorrows, the metronome picked that moment to stop ticking. The whole auditorium filled with silence, allowing me to hear Sarah’s muffled, “Loser.”

  So much for hypnotized bravery.

  Damien stalked up to the clunky old piano he forced me to practice on because only soloists got to play on the grand. With puckered lips, he flicked at the pointer, staring down at me testily. “And again.”

  ***

  “He’s totally sleeping with her. That has to be it.” I slammed my plastic lunch tray onto the table and sat down with a grunt. “It’s like a casting couch or something. My bad that I don’t want to sleep with people to get on top! No pun intended.”

  Claudia shot the table of students beside us an embarrassed looking smile, “Sorry, my friend is…um…she’s not right in the head, if you know what I mean.”

  They rolled their eyes and went back to ignoring us just as I elbowed her square in the tits.

  “Ow!” she yelped, cupping her right boob. “That fucking hurt!”

  Ignoring her, I bit into my apple, tearing off a huge chunk. As I chomped away at the fruit, I muttered, “That girl can’t even get her vivaces right. That’s like middle school stuff!”

  My friend squealed as a piece of my apple flew onto her face. Flailing a hand around, she grabbed a napkin with the other, wiping her cheek down as if I had just thrown biohazard goo on her. “Seriously, Mallory, you need to calm down. You’re scaring me.”

  “At least I’m scaring someone,” I muttered half-heartedly. “The way Damien looks at me…to him I’m nothing but a pathetic mouse.”

  “Maybe Damien is right.” She flinched, waiting for my response.

  “You think I’m a mouse?” I demanded incredulously.

  “No, of course not.” She chuckled gently. “I just mean you don’t really have any stage presence. Maybe you wouldn’t have been able to carry the whole show by yourself. Did you ever think of that?”